


Meager

by temporalgambit



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Gen, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 18:59:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17249618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporalgambit/pseuds/temporalgambit
Summary: Breakfast doesn't go as planned.





	Meager

**Author's Note:**

> here's to 2k19.

“ **Eddie,** ” something prods at this edges of his consciousness, firm and insistent.

In response, he only curls himself tighter beneath the covers.

“ **Eddie,** ” the voice repeats, a little more forceful now, “ **breakfast.** ”

“Not now,” he mumbles, all the while knowing this is a battle he cannot and will not win. “M’tired.” It’s true, even though he’s pretty sure he’d gone to bed at a decent time last night. He turns his head, fumbling for his phone and squinting at the brightness of the display. It’s already after ten. He’s surprised Venom let him sleep _this_ late, honestly.

“ ** _Eddie._** ”

Not anymore, apparently.

“Okay, okay,” he agrees, untangling his legs from the sheets. He has a gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach that probably wouldn’t allow him to fall back asleep anyway, symbiote or no.

It’s when he finally pulls himself into a sitting position that he realizes something is wrong.

The world tilts, and he finds himself clutching the edge of the mattress for purchase, sucking a deep breath in through his nose while he waits for his vision to level out.

“ **Eddie?** ”

There’s a note of concern there, but he’s probably the only one on Earth who would be able to hear it. Eddie swallows hard. “I—I’m fine. Just a little dizzy.”

Venom is usually not so easily placated, but it’s clear that his attentions lie elsewhere. “ **Because we’re hungry?** ”

“Could be,” he rubs his stomach experimentally, hoping that’s the case. Though he feels like his body has adjusted pretty well to its parasitic invader, he hasn’t quite grown used to _all_ of its little quirks. Hopefully sating Venom’s ravenous appetite will be enough to get them both ready to face the day.

He strides into the kitchen, acting much more surefooted than he feels, and pops open the freezer.

“ **What’s for breakfast?** ” the voice inquires, and there’s a hint of excitement there that makes Eddie smile _just_ a little, “ **Tater tots?** ”

“We’re out. Gotta go shopping,” he explains, much to Venom’s obvious disappointment. He rummages around for a minute, coming up with a box of Hot Pockets. Perfect. 

Venom materializes, slithering around his shoulder to get a better look. “ **Looks small. Make four. Make _ten._** ”

“They only come two in a box.”

A sound of frustration echoes from behind him as the symbiote retreats. Eddie looks down at the box, suddenly feeling a lot less sure about their hunger theory. He tears open one package, hesitates, then sticks the other back in the freezer.

They’ll start slow.

He stares at the microwave with something akin to dread, watching the little paper sleeve inside spin and spin in lazy circles. He presses his hand to his belly uncertainly, just imagining the way the melted cheese is going to feel sliding down his throat. His stomach gurgles with something that is decidedly _not_ hunger. 

… _Really_ slow, then. 

Sure enough, seated at the kitchen table, he manages three-quarters of a single Hot Pocket and half a cup of orange juice before he’s forced to call it quits, shoving the plate across the table as a sudden spike of nausea shoots through his gut. Venom makes a grumbling noise somewhere in the back of his head.

“Sorry, V,” he breathes shakily, eyes scrunching shut as his stomach cramps, “I can’t—”

“ **We know.** ” 

Eddie frowns, a hand finding its way to his middle. He’s far more bloated than his meager breakfast would account for, and he resists the urge to groan as the small amount of additional pressure forces a queasy burp up the back of his throat.

He suddenly wants very badly to lie down.

Pushing his chair back from the table, he stands, stumbling the few steps over to ease himself down onto the couch. Eyes squeeze shut again as his stomach burbles noisily, obviously displeased with the sudden change in position. He feels an inky black tendril ooze from somewhere around his ribcage, but he doesn’t bother to watch whatever Venom might be doing, too caught up in his own misery.

The _thunk_ next to his head, however, makes him curious enough to open one eye. Somehow, the waste-bin from the other side of the room has miraculously made its way over to the sofa.

“ **Just in case,** ” Venom promises. The protrusion strokes over Eddie’s cheek lightly before receding back into his body.

Eddie nods, grateful for the foresight.

He dozes, then—for how long, he isn’t sure, but it’s anything but restful. His insides don’t want to settle no matter which way he turns, and the disoriented, dizzy feeling is even worse when he closes his eyes.

He hiccups sharply just then, moaning as the motion jostles his upset stomach. Saliva begins to pool in his mouth, and he rolls further onto his side, spitting weakly into the bin. He can feel Venom’s disappointment at the realization that they are _definitely_ about to throw up, but he doesn’t have much time to process that emotion before a painful gag rolls his shoulders forward, bringing up nothing more than a pathetic dribble of bile. He retches a second time, one hand clamped to the edge of the waste-bin, the other fisted in the fabric of his shirt.

Eddie gags again, and finally, mercifully, the contents of his stomach come rushing up. The stream splatters against the plastic lining with a sickening sound, eliciting another heave. It hurts like a son of a bitch, but it’s somehow so much better than playing the nauseous waiting game.

The acrid scent of vomit makes him cough, choking on something viscous before it, too, makes its way into the bin. One more tiny splash of acid, and then it’s over as soon as it came. Flopping bonelessly back down onto the cushions, Eddie drags the back of his sleeve across his mouth.

“ **Feel better now?** ” Venom prods, pooling himself around Eddie’s abdominal organs in an obvious attempt to soothe away the lingering ache.

“Yeah. Sorry, buddy. Maybe, uh…” Eddie licks his dry lips, “Gatorade and crackers for lunch?”

He fully expects Venom to be irritated, which is why he’s doubly surprised when the symbiote forms a head, nodding thoughtfully. “ **Gatorade and crackers.** ”


End file.
